The sun peeeked over the horizon of the walls of Galgador. Long had been the night, full of bloodshed and terror. Eragis, king of that splendid city, paced in the crisp morning air as a messenger read the horrors of the nights attack. For years the king and his men had battled with the barbarians of the North, but to no avail. Each night those savages would emerge from their caves to plunder his people. Coming to the edge of the balcony, Eragris looked on with woe as the peasents of neraby villages flooded to the refuge found behind Galgador's walls. The king, in all his power, could not protect them. Wallowing in his confusion and pity, Eragris knew not what to do. Already had he lost over then thousand men in this gorry fued. With each attack the barbarians grew more daring. And no they stood in wait not twohundred yards from the gate, behind bush and tree, waithing for night. Eragris had no escape for him or his people. They were trapped.
Four miles up the road from the mighty towers of Galgador, doors were torn from hinges as Horgoth the Terrible and is men made short work of the towns mead supply. He and his tribe of gruesome warriors had laid waist to all of the kings land. Coming from the bitter lands of the North, they had sailed for two years to reach Rishlance, leaving a trail of woe and destruction in their wake. And now at long last the island would be his. No longer would the tales of a land of glory be myth to his people. No longer would they have to battle the harsh winters and fierce seas of the North. This was their freedom.
Night came and with it the carcries of the enemy. Norfirth stood shaking in his armor. He had been assigned to the gate, where so many others had fallen to the barbed arrows of the enemy. He had fought in many of the battles of old earning respect and reknown, but all those where fought in the open, in daylight. Now he feared what he could not see. A shriek rang out to his left. Foron must have fallen. With uneasy feet, Norfirth stepped closer to the gate, as if that great wooden structure could save him from the bloody onslaught to come. His eyes skittishly surveyed the night like a hunted beast, knowing the end was coming. He smelled the barbarians first. Drawing his bow with quivering hands, he swept the area a head with it. His heart pounded as a knife whirled past, slicing through his bow string. Norfirth unsheathed his sword and watched as three barbarians stepped into the torch light. Each was tall land powerful, muscle bulging for all sides. Their hair was long and unruly, their beards matted. They snarled in vicious delight, brandishing wicked war clubs stained black with victims blood. They approached their prey, their clubs thirsty. Norfirth dropped into his stance, knowint the battle was lost, but determined to take at least on of these hellish fiends with him. The barbarians smiles grew as they saw this, lobing a fight however unfair. There was the sudden crunch of bone, and one barbarian dropped like a ragdoll, blood flowing from what should have been the back of his skull. Instead of a natural curve, the mans head appeared to have imploded from the back forward. Before the other two could react to this unforeseen assualt, they too fell with similiar impressions riddling their heads. Norfirth stood in awestruck confusion.
The morning rays broke over the walls of Galgador's mighty wall. King Eragris had heard the news. In the night, strange and miraculous victory had been granted him. Horgoth and his horde were laid to waste. His heart leapt with joy. Yet the victory was bitter-sweet, for none of his men could describe the events. They all claimed to never have touched the vermin's throats with their swords, but instead the barbarins had fallen in sudden and complete destruction. Early that mornign they had found a message upon the city gate:
"Sleep easy king and men for your terror is no more.
Signed, Daryan the Protector of the Free"
The king issued a decree demanding this Daryan present himself, yet none came forward.
On the other side of the island, near the shore, hidden by well thought camoflauge, lives Daryan and his band. With unmatched skill and cumming tactics they keep their island safe. Yet never do they ask for a reward. There is no need. For they are the Protectors of the Free.
